United We Stand: Part 2 In The Devided Trilogy
by Nelia
Summary: Jack and Sam are held hostage on a planet where slavery is customary to its occupants because of a cruel leader named Maldo.When a rescue is ruled out because of new restrictions placed on the SG and Sam is the only one able to get home, it’s three mont
1. Warning

WARNING To all future readers:  
  
THIS STORY HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN BY ME, NOR DID I HAVE ANY INPUT IN THE STORY!!!  
  
I'M JUST POSTING THE STORY FOR SPYRO BECAUSE SHE IS MY FRIEND AND A WONDERFUL WRITTER!! MORE PEOPLE SHOULD READ HER WORK, SO I'M POSTING IT HERE TOO...  
  
EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THE STORY WAS THOUGHT UP AND WRITTEN BY THE WONDERFUL SPYRO!!!!  
  
IF YOU WISH TO REVIEW THE STORY PLEASE REMEMBER I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT AND ALL COMMENT SHOULD GO TO SPYRO HERSELF, EITHER MAIL HER OR LEAVE A REVIEW HERE, I'LL MAKE SURE SHE GETS IT!!!  
  
THE STORY IS A TRILOGY, SO PLEASE KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN WHEN READING, OTHERWISE IT MIGHT GET CONFUSING!!!!  
  
THIS IS PART 2: UNITED WE STAND!  
  
THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING AND ENJOY THE STORY!!!  
  
SPYRO & NELIA 


	2. Prologue

"The Divided Trilogy" - By Spyro  
  
Title: The Divided Trilogy  
  
Author: Spyro  
  
E-mail: traversekingdom@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Content Warnings: Torture, Violence  
  
Season/Sequel Info: Season 5  
  
Category: Drama/Action  
  
Pairings: None  
  
Spoilers: Emancipation, Solitudes (Season 1) A Hundred Days (Season 3) Divide and Conquer (Season 4)  
  
Status: Complete  
  
Archive: Heliopolis & Jackfic. All others please ask first.  
  
URL:   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of course - everyone should know that. I'm just borrowing it all for entertainment. No money was made as you know, or I would not still be here, I'd be off in some huge house with everything I've ever wanted and a pool and a butler and.  
  
Brief Summary: Jack and Sam are held hostage on a planet where slavery is customary to its occupants because of a cruel leader named Maldo who Sam discovers is in fact a Goa'uld. When a rescue is ruled out because of new restrictions placed on the Stargate and Sam is the only one able to get home, it's three months of Hell for Jack who has become Maldo's new favourite form of entertainment.  
  
Author's Notes: This started because I had a brief idea in my head, and somehow it morphed into what it is now. No idea what happened, please don't venture there.lol. Lemme know what you think overall, no flames of course. Thanks a bunch folks. You know I love you all! Specially big thanks to my beta reader, Corine. You're a saint; I know you know it! Love you, thanks so much for all your wonderful help. 


	3. Return From Hell

Part 2 - United We Stand  
  
Chapter 1 - Return From Hell  
  
Janet lifted Jack's hand. "Can you wiggle your fingers for me, Colonel?" she asked, keeping her tone light and gentle.  
  
Jack's fingers shook slightly, but he moved them. "That's great, Sir," Fraiser smiled, pleased. "Now can you describe for me how you're feeling?"  
  
Still his eyes were empty. Staring lifelessly at nothing. He didn't respond. "Colonel? Sir, can you explain to me how you feel?" Dr. Fraiser pursued a reply, but received nothing from the inert Colonel.  
  
"What is it, doctor?" General Hammond queried as he, Teal'c and Sam stared back and forth, from Colonel to doctor, searching for an answer.  
  
"I really have no idea, General," Janet replied, equally as puzzled and worried.  
  
"Colonel? Can you hear me, Sir?"  
  
"I'm.fine," Jack murmured, and then lost the strength to hold himself upright. Teal'c assisted Dr. Fraiser in holding him up.  
  
"Colonel, we're going to go down to the Infirmary now, ok? Do you think you can stand up on your own?" the doctor asked gently, looking up into the taller man's vacant eyes. Teal'c helped O'Neill to stand, but that was as far as the Colonel managed to get. As soon as Jack was on his feet, he slumped over to one side, almost hitting the ramp before Teal'c grabbed him.  
  
"It's ok, Colonel," Janet said in a soothing voice, "we've got a gurney here."  
  
On the gurney, Jack fell unconscious.  
  
@  
  
"What were you thinking, Major?" General Hammond demanded, pacing irately about the briefing room. His office had proven far too small for his march.  
  
"You were deliberately disobeying a direct order. I cannot believe that you - either of you - could be so irresponsible. I understand that Colonel O'Neill is a part of SG-1, commander of your team, but that gives you no authority to disregard my decision. This is something I never thought I would be doing, especially for either of you. It's very disappointing." The Major and Jaffa looked to the floor, minding it consciously with their eyes. Perhaps it might try to move if they weren't watching.  
  
"General," Sam broke the silence, looking up, "can I just say that Teal'c really had no involvement here. I know that might sound like a lie, or a cover-up, but I think you know us both well enough to know that we wouldn't be stupid enough to protect the other. I think Teal'c would agree, wouldn't you Teal'c?"  
  
"I am in agreement with Major Carter," Teal'c confirmed.  
  
"I'd like to agree with you both on that," Hammond said, "but I thought I knew both of you better than attempting something like this. I think personal opinions are irrelevant, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Sam answered quietly, again allowing her eyes to find the floor. She felt small. Very small.  
  
"Now, I don't know what sort of a punishment to enforce here," the General went on, "if any at all. I'm not sure if punishment is the right way to go about it. I know you were both trying to do a good thing. I know your intentions were all good, but that's not the point. You were disobeying a direct order. Something you knew you shouldn't have done, before even contemplating it. Now I also know that concern for a friend, a good friend, can distort people's minds - perception. Change your way of thinking, because you're not thinking at all. I do know that, it has happened to me before. Taking that into consideration, and the condition Colonel O'Neill has returned in, I do seen reason for your actions. Major, you knew of the danger he was facing because you faced it yourself, and for that alone I drop any punishment that I may have considered otherwise. Don't think you're getting off just because I feel sorry for you, though. That would be a misconception. I'm just understanding the situation and taking appropriate action. Now get out, before I change my mind." Sam was almost sure she could see a tiny smile on Hammond's face as he told them to leave, and she returned it. He'd been lenient on them both; in fact, he'd been more than that, and they were grateful. Sam smiled broadly on the inside as she nearly jogged down to the Infirmary. Her CO's condition was worrying her. More than she dared to show.  
  
@  
  
"Janet."  
  
Fraiser heard her name and turned to see Sam approaching. She knew what her friend had come to ask about, but it would be difficult for the doctor to explain it. Even she wasn't sure she understood.  
  
"Sam," Fraiser acknowledged, "what did General Ha - "  
  
"How's Colonel O'Neill?" Sam interrupted to ask.  
  
Janet looked down for a moment and licked her lips. How could she explain what she didn't understand? "Physically? He'll be fine," Fraiser began. "It'll take some time, but in that time he'll heal and be fine."  
  
"That's great," Sam smiled. "Can I see him now?"  
  
"Sam," Janet stopped. She wasn't sure how to say what she needed to. She drew eye contact from her friend and locked it.  
  
Sam could see in the doctor's eyes that there was something she needed to say. Something that wasn't good news. The doctor's silence made Sam uneasy, desperate to know what her friend kept from her. "Janet? What is it?"  
  
"I think Colonel O'Neill may have had a nervous breakdown." 


	4. The Shock Of The Truth

Chapter 2 - The Shock of the Truth  
  
"What did you say?" Sam asked tonelessly. Fraiser felt like a police officer. As though she'd just told her friend that her father or her husband had died. The blank look of disbelief on Sam's face was indescribable. Janet swallowed hard. It was hard enough to say once, let alone twice.  
  
"I think Colonel O'Neill is suffering from PTSD," she repeated, choosing different words. Sam nearly fainted, but not entirely from shock. From disbelief more than anything else. How could her CO, a man of such a strong mind, have a nervous breakdown? How could something like that happen? To him, of all people! No - that had to be wrong. There was no way it could be true. No way.  
  
"I don't believe you," Sam said flatly. "You're wrong."  
  
"Yes," Fraiser agreed readily, "I may very well be. I'm not a psychologist. I could be absolutely wrong. I'm not saying I know, but he's showing the perfect signs of early PTSD. He's very cut-off and withdrawn. He's not said more than two words since being back, but that doesn't really mean anything just yet. The signs could be a result of something else. They're also signs of trauma and shock. The blank stare and the withdrawal, seclusion. Text book symptoms of shock."  
  
"You see," Sam pointed at the doctor, as though she was guilty of a crime or had sprouted a second head, "you're wrong. He's.no. Nothing like that has happened. You're wrong."  
  
"Ok, Sam," Janet tried to calm her friend. Sam was working herself up about something Janet wasn't even certain about. She probably was wrong. She hoped she was. "It's all right. I was just surmising. I probably am wrong. Like I said, this is isn't my area of expertise. Dr. Mackenzie would be a better person to talk to. He knows what he's talking about."  
  
"Then get him in here. Get him to look at the Colonel and see if you're right. Get Mackenzie here."  
  
"It's a little more difficult than that actually, Sam. Dr. Mackenzie is away in Washington at the moment, at a conference."  
  
"Well then get him back here. This is more important. He needs to be here. Get him back here, Janet."  
  
"Calm down Sam, please," Fraiser begged. "I know that this is a hard thing to understand; I'm finding it hard as well, but you need to stay together. Colonel O'Neill doesn't need everyone around him to go insane with worry. He needs everyone to stay calm and help him recover. That includes you, Sam. Ok?"  
  
Sam nodded, controlling her urgency. "Yes," she replied, nodding. "Ok. I'm sorry for going overboard. I didn't mean to."  
  
"It's all right. I understand."  
  
"Can you do anything to see if you're right? To see if he has had a.to see if you're right?"  
  
"It will all really depend on what happens when Colonel O'Neill wakes up. Now I'm really not sure when that will happen, but when he does I'll do all the regular tests to make sure he's ok physically. Let's focus on that for now. Once he's awake and coherent and we know how close to the truth my little theory is, I'll have Dr. Mackenzie back here within a day. He'll be able to flick all the psychological buttons and switches and tell us what's going on. Then we'll know."  
  
Sam nodded again. That was all she could do. She wasn't comfortable with having to wait so long for a verdict, lacking a better word in her mind, but she knew it wasn't that long. It would have to do. "Ok," she said, and then went to see her Colonel.  
  
Jack's face was bruised, his eyes still swollen. The horrible dark contusions marked around his face like a messy Morse code made him barely recognizable. The murky shades of purple and blue, smudged together, made him look like an artists canvas gone wrong. The bandages seemed to glow in their cleanliness - the sheets a close second. The bloodstains were gone now, but Sam remembered where they'd been. The Major sunk into a plastic chair beside the lifeless body of her Colonel and wondered how long he'd be that way. Motionless. Inert. Non-responsive, and a million other words that meant the same thing. Dr. Fraiser had done everything she could, as always, and failed to disappoint. She always worked miracles. At least Sam thought so. Hoped so. Carter sat up in her chair and took a long moment to look at her CO. To tell him everything would be ok, with her eyes. Something told her it wouldn't matter - that it wouldn't do anything - but she tried. It may not do any good, Sam thought, but it can't do any harm.  
  
@  
  
The next day came too fast for Jack. His body decided to wake up before he was ready to, and he felt angry about it, although he couldn't quite understand where the anger came from. Almost instantaneous with his eyes opening, Dr. Fraiser was by his side, firing questions at him like burning bullets. Bullets he couldn't dodge. Did he feel ok? Was there any pain? Did he need painkillers? Could he hear her? Did he understand her? Could he respond? Could you go away! He wanted to scream. Leave me alone! I don't want to talk to anyone. Go away!  
  
//'Spend all your time waiting  
  
For that second chance  
  
For a break that would make it okay'//  
  
"Colonel?" I'm not going to answer. Go away! Just leave me alone! I don't want to answer any questions. I've got nothing to say. Go away.  
  
"It's Dr. Fraiser, Colonel. Can you answer me?" No, I can't, so go away. Stop talking to me. I'm not answering anything. I'm not going to say anything.  
  
//'There's always some reason  
To feel not good enough  
  
And it's hard at the end of the day'//  
  
"All right, Sir. Maybe you just don't want to talk now, huh?" Fraiser smiled gently, trying to be calm and friendly. "That's ok, maybe later." No, not later. Not at all. Go away. I don't have anything to say. Go away! Shut up!  
  
//'I need some distraction  
Oh beautiful release  
Memory seeps from my veins'//  
  
"Well, Sam was here before, so I'm sure she'll be back in a minute. Maybe you can talk to her?" Dr. Fraiser continued to try to coax words out of the silent Colonel, but he remained oblivious to her efforts. NO! SHUT UP! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!  
  
//'Let me be empty  
Oh and weightless and maybe  
  
I'll find some peace tonight'//  
  
"Oh look, here she is now," Janet smiled at Sam as she approached.  
  
"Colonel," Carter breathed happily, "we were so worried, Sir. I'm so glad you're ok."  
  
Yeah, Jack thought bitterly, I'm 'ok'. So go away and leave me alone. I don't want to talk to any of you. "Colonel?" Sam pursued, turning her eyes to the doctor.  
  
Janet indicated with her head that she and Sam go away from the Colonel and have a talk.  
  
"Why isn't he saying anything, Janet?" Sam asked immediately, when she closed the door to her friend's office.  
  
"It's another sign of PTSD," Fraiser replied.  
  
"What is that? I've heard that before but I can't remember what it stands for."  
  
"PTSD is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's usually caused by a traumatic event, like torture or near loss of life. That's why I think Colonel O'Neill is suffering from it. He's showing perfect signs."  
  
"But I thought that sort of thing took a while to set in. I thought it wasn't sudden."  
  
"Yes, you're right. Usually it isn't. Usually there would be some signs of it beforehand, but because he's been in the traumatic environment before now, I think the signs may have been noticeable there. Now he's here, his mental strength has given in and allowed him to succumb to it."  
  
"That doesn't sound much like Colonel O'Neill," Sam stated the obvious.  
  
Fraiser nodded. "That's the thing with PTSD," she said, "it usually strikes people who are thought of as less susceptible to that sort of thing. Often, soldiers who've fought in wars are victims, because of the things they've seen. Their mind eventually breaks."  
  
"It still doesn't sound like Colonel O'Neill to me."  
  
"No, it doesn't. I think some pretty awful things happened to him in the last four months."  
  
"So we talk to him about it. Ask him to talk about it, get it off his chest. That'll help, right?" Sam asked hopefully.  
  
Janet's expression was slightly less positive. "Another thing - usually someone who is suffering PTSD will not talk about their experiences. War veterans are perfect examples again. Very few of them are willing to talk about what they saw. What they went through. If I'm right, and Colonel O'Neill did have some horrible times during the last four months, it's not likely he will talk about it. In fact, it's more likely he'll completely avoid anything at all that reminds him of it, as a defence mechanism."  
  
"Are you saying he's going to ignore me, because I was there with him?" Sam asked, tentative and uneasy about the response. What if he would never speak to her again because she reminded him of being on P4C 237?  
  
"I don't know about that," Fraiser answered earnestly. "He may go for a complete defence against the planet itself, or just the 'bad' parts. I really don't know that though. That's up to him."  
  
"But it'll probably happen that way, won't it?"  
  
"Personally, I don't believe it will. But, once again, I have no authority over what Colonel O'Neill is going to do. I can't predict anything like that."  
  
Sam nodded. There was so much to take in, it made her head hurt. The beating of her heart throbbed endlessly inside her head, pounding like a drum. "Should I leave him for today?" she asked eventually.  
  
"It mightn't be a bad idea," Fraiser replied, being honest with her friend. "I don't think you should take it personally though, Sam. I don't really think anyone should crowd him just yet. Time may be crucial, or indifferent, but I think we need to consider it."  
  
"It's ok," Sam said. "I understand it must be hard. I might come back tomorrow."  
  
"Good idea," Janet agreed. "And maybe let Daniel and Teal'c know that too?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Sam smiled and left, giving her CO a brief survey with her eyes on her way out of the Infirmary. Something horrible must have happened to make him this way, Sam thought. Something really horrible.  
  
//'In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark, cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
  
Of your silent reverie  
  
You're in the arms of the angels  
May you find some comfort here'//  
  
@  
  
The next few days were uneventful. Dr. Fraiser tried her best to rouse some form of awareness from the ever- silent Colonel, but quickly found herself getting nowhere.  
  
"General, Dr. Mackenzie is the expert," Janet pleaded on the third day. "He really needs to be here."  
  
"I understand that, doctor," Hammond responded, "but he is away on an important conference."  
  
"I know that, Sir, but this really is - "  
  
"It will be finished in a day or so, doctor," the General interrupted. "You will have to wait."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Fraiser conceded almost sulkily and left his office. It was going to be a long 'day or so'; that was for sure.  
  
"Doctor," Daniel called out as he caught a glimpse of Fraiser passing him by in the hallway.  
  
"Dr. Jackson," Janet acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"How's Jack doing? I haven't been in there. Sam told me what you said though." "His condition hasn't changed, I'm afraid."  
  
"Do you think it would be all right if I went in today and tried to talk to him?" The whole idea that his friend was suffering from something like a nervous breakdown was really getting to the archaeologist.  
  
"I suppose you can try," the doctor thought aloud, "but do remember that he's rather fragile. Don't push too hard. I understand it's frustrating, believe me, I've been trying to make him talk for three days, but forcing him won't make matters any better. Don't get yourself into a bad temper either, that won't help."  
  
"Ok, thanks," Daniel smiled and set off for the Infirmary. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew, but he had to try. His friend had always been there to help him; it was hardly fair that he not return the same concern. Daniel wasn't doing it for that reason alone, though. Jack O'Neill was suffering from something Daniel knew he couldn't understand, but just because Jack had always been there in the past, didn't mean Jackson felt obligated to do the same. He was worried. Everyone was.  
  
In the Infirmary, in his silent reverie, Jack tried to find peace. Comfort. He could close his eyes to shut out the people around him, but he couldn't do it without being bombarded with horrifying memories of P4C 237. They flashed by him, like angry photos being snapped in front of his eyes. Endless, repetitious images. Painful in their innocence. They were just images, right? Pictures. Scenes. Reminders. But they were reminders of everything. Everything no one else got to see when he was in that little room. Everything he wanted to forget. Everything no one else could feel. Understand. No one could. No one ever would. Jack wasn't so sure he did. He was sure he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't ever want to see or do anything that remotely reminded him of P4C 237. Never. It all hurt so bad. The ache sunk deep, pinched at his heart. Stuck a skewer through his brain. None of it would ever go away. Ever.  
  
//'So tired of the straight line  
  
And everywhere you turn  
  
There's vultures and thieves at your back'//  
  
Every little thing seemed to remind him of something. Some of the things were so small it was incredible, but they still hurt. Still made a memory of something else photograph itself back into Jack's head. Why was it all so close? So real? Why did it all keep coming back? What had all that military training been for, if something like this could still happen? Why hadn't he been prepared?  
  
//'And the storm keeps on twisting  
  
You keep on building the lies  
That you make up for all that you lack'//  
  
Daniel made his way quietly into the Infirmary. Jack didn't appear to notice. His eyes were closed. As soon as the bed Daniel sat on, creaked, Jack's eyes flung open and instantly found his friend. Daniel made a mental note: his friends' eyes were so wide, almost wild in fear before he knew who it was. Jackson had never seen that in his friends' eyes before. "It's ok," the archaeologist smiled, "just me."  
  
//'It don't make no difference  
  
Escaping one last time  
  
It's easier to believe'//  
  
Jack turned away when he saw his friend. Why were they bothering? He didn't need to talk to anyone about what happened. It would never leave him alone. He'd never forget - if that's what they were worried about. Why couldn't they see that he didn't need to talk about anything? It would all live with him forever. Forever was a long time for something to stay, but these pictures - these memories - would never fade. They didn't want to. At every chance they got, they flashed by him again, as if to remind him they were still around. They were like a crazed murderer, who shot their dead victim one more time, just to make sure they were dead.  
  
//'In this sweet madness, oh  
This glorious sadness  
  
That brings me to my knees'//  
  
Daniel was at a loss for what to say. Now that he was here, and he'd seen that look of almost terror in his friend's eyes, he had no idea what to do. What could he say? 'Hey Jack, how you doing?' Hardly seemed fitting, considering the circumstances.  
  
What could he do? There was such an uncomfortable feel to the picture. Daniel found himself fidgeting. Taking his watch off and putting it back on upside down. Finding a million and one different ways to make pictures with his fingers. Pulling everything out of his pockets and putting it all back in again. Minutes dragged by. Empty, silent minutes. The Infirmary was almost empty aside from Daniel and Jack. Another patient with a broken leg was further along the close line of beds, but he was asleep. Surely an hour had passed by? Two? Twenty minutes?! Daniel thought incredulously as he checked the time. How is that possible? It feels like I've been here for hours!  
  
"Umm.I know Dr. Fraiser has been talking to you a lot this week," Daniel said suddenly, sliding off the bed he sat on and beginning to pace a little along the small space between that bed and Jack's. "I also know you haven't exactly been keeping her entertained. Which is a shame, I mean this place is pretty dead, huh?"  
  
Daniel tried to lighten the mood, but was unsuccessful. "Yeah.well I guess I can't do the doctor speech, seeing as you've probably already heard it. The speech makes sense though, you know? Just because I'm not going to say it, doesn't mean I don't think it's true. Talking about it will help."  
  
Jack clenched his teeth and stopped himself from yelling at his friend. Why did they all insist that talking about it would help? Why did everyone always say that talking would help? What was it about talking that seemed so great? Why would it help? How? If one more person came in and told him that talking about it all would help, Jack knew he'd scream. They have no idea what they're talking about. 'Talking' will NOT help!  
  
"You've always been willing to help when someone else has a problem, Jack,"  
  
Daniel finally said what he was feeling. "Why won't you let us help you?" "Because I don't need help!"  
  
Daniel was initially taken aback. They were the first words Jack had spoken since assuring his friends he was fine upon his arrival home and Daniel hadn't been there then. All those days before. God, why is he so angry? Jackson thought. His eyes are so angry. No - that's not anger. The initial mistake of believing it was anger shining so brightly in Jack's eyes could have been made by anyone. However, Daniel had corrected his mistake quickly. He realised that it was not anger in his friends' eyes at all. The anger was a perfect cover up for the truth. Pain was in Jack's eyes, not anger.  
  
"I don't believe that," Daniel stated. "I don't believe it at all. You don't either, do you?"  
  
"Go away, Daniel," Jack hissed, never looking at his friend.  
  
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Jack? Why are you making yourself suffer? You know you don't have to. You know we're all here because we care. I don't care if you've heard all this a million times before, you can hear it again, because it's true. If you can't see that, then you're blind."  
  
"You're right, Daniel, I have heard it a million times. I don't want to hear it again."  
  
"Because you know it's true or because you don't want to believe it?" Daniel came back quickly with his own thoughts. Perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so brutally honest, but he knew with Jack there was no use being anything else. There was no other way.  
  
"Go away, Daniel," Jack repeated.  
  
"All right, Jack. I'll go. Just remember, we're all trying to help," Jackson reminded his friend and then left him alone. Time would help, wouldn't it?  
  
//'In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
  
From this dark, cold hotel room  
  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
  
You're in the arms of the angels  
  
May you find some comfort here'// 


	5. The First Steps

Chapter 3 - The First Steps  
  
That same day, Daniel talked to Sam. Told her what Jack had said to him. "I wasn't exactly calm," Jackson explained. "And you know how Dr. Fraiser asked us not to be pushy? Well, I kinda forgot that too."  
  
"Daniel!" Sam exclaimed. "That's not going to make it any easier on Colonel O'Neill."  
  
"Sam, you know what Jack's like, just as well as I do. Not being an ass does nothing. You have to be that way with him. It's the only way to get through to him."  
  
"All right, granted, that's true - but Janet did ask that we not be. We don't know what he went through on P4C 237. We don't know what's going through his head. Being aggressive won't make it any easier on him."  
  
Sam's reality check hit Daniel with unexpected force. Suddenly he felt very guilty about being so sharp and inconsiderate when speaking to Jack. He really hadn't considered the facts Sam had reminded him of. None of them knew what Jack had been through. True, it would be easier for them to try to help if they knew, but they could hardly force O'Neill to tell them. No one wanted to talk about horrible experiences and especially didn't want to be forced to. Daniel was glad Sam had given him this reality check; he needed it. "You're right," he admitted. "I was really inconsiderate, wasn't I?"  
  
Sam's eyebrows rose and her expression told Daniel all he needed to know. He'd been really inconsiderate. He'd told the truth, but he'd chosen a bad way to do it. "Damn," he cursed. "I think I'll stay away from there for a little while."  
  
"Might not be a bad idea," Sam agreed, but smiled kindly.  
  
"Yeah," Daniel said quietly to himself, while watching his friend leave.  
  
Sam went down to the Infirmary to see her CO. If he had spoken to Daniel, even if only to yell and tell the archaeologist to go away, perhaps he'd talk to her. Hopefully, he wouldn't yell at her too. Sam hoped he wouldn't. "Hi, Colonel," she tried to keep it light as she greeted her CO.  
  
Jack looked away and silently sighed. Why won't they all just get the message? I don't want to talk to anyone; I've got nothing to say. "I just thought it might be nice to see how you were going, Sir, considering I haven't been to see you in a few days," Sam was honest, but she kept her phrase loose. She came to see how he was going, or if he was willing to talk about what happened. She hadn't been to see him in a few days; she'd stayed away because it seemed like a better option. Also, since Daniel had told her Jack had yelled at him, Sam was hoping that perhaps even although it wasn't proper communication, it may be the first step towards finally finding out what happened to O'Neill on P4C 237. The first steps toward freedom for him.  
  
Jack had no intentions of talking to anyone. He'd have thought that yelling at Daniel to go away would have sent a pretty clear message to them all. He wanted to be left alone. That 'go away' didn't just apply to Daniel. It was for all of them. Why couldn't they all see that? Why were they all so hell bent on trying to make him 'talk' about things he didn't need to 'talk' about. He didn't need to, and he didn't want to. There was nothing to talk about. Things had happened on P4C 237. Things no one should have had to suffer through, but the people there did. Jack had been one of those people for more than four months. It was a long time, and there was a big change from Earth to P4C 237. It wasn't like sharing someone's house for a few days, or going away on vacation. If vacations were like P4C 237, then Jack never wanted another vacation. No one would.  
  
"Well, umm," Sam struggled to find things to say. Talking to her CO was like talking to a brick wall, or a dead body. There was no response from him, no matter what anyone said. Sam was sure she could tell O'Neill the Goa'uld were taking over the Mountain and he still wouldn't show any emotion.  
  
It was both bizarre and unnerving for Carter, but she knew she had to try. If no one tried, then O'Neill would only get worse and that prospect wasn't a bright one. "Janet says you're slowly getting better," Sam said cheerfully, a smile drifting to her lips as she watched her CO's emotionless face staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe you'll be able to leave the Infirmary soon too." Jack listened silently to his 2IC desperately trying to make him talk, without screaming it in his face. He knew they all wanted to. They all came in, calmly talking to him. All so concerned, and worried. They all wanted him to talk about it, like it would make everything better. Make it all go away. Well it wasn't going to go away. No amount of talking was going to 'fix' things, or make things disappear. Everything would still be the same. If Jack had the strength, he thought he might try to tell them that. Without yelling, try to tell them that nothing they could do would ever make it all right. Nothing would ever make it ok. He didn't have that strength.  
  
"Colonel, I know we're all telling you the same things, and that you'd probably love to tape our mouths shut, but we are trying to help," Sam spoke so softly. She needed for her CO, her friend, to understand. They all needed for him to understand. "We all care about you, Sir. We're all worried about you, and we just want to help. We just want for you to get better. I understand, probably better than anyone else, what it was like there. I know how awful it was. You can talk to us about it. To me. You know that, at least, don't you, Sir?"  
  
Jack knew Sam was trying to help. Knew she was doing her best to be the good, caring friend that she was. He thought about talking to her about it. Probably more than anyone else, she could understand. She knew what it was like there. She didn't know what it had been like there for him though. After she'd left, what he'd gone through. No one knew that. Not even Azyalae, the good doctor who had helped Jack heal, physically. Not even she knew what it had been like. She only saw what it looked like afterwards. What he looked like after the guards were done with him. Jack finally drew his eyes away from the ceiling and let them fall on Sam. She had deep concern creased into her brow. It didn't suit her. Her intense blue eyes were shadowed, hooded with worry. Sam noted the painful glimmer to her CO's chocolate brown eyes. It didn't suit him. It made his face look sunken and sad. She desperately wanted to help. To do anything that would make it ok. Something told Carter that nothing would make it ok.  
  
Jack's eyes gave no indication he needed to talk, but he kept them focussed on Sam for a long while. Neither of them said anything, and that seemed to be ok for that long moment. Normally it may have been uncomfortable, or weird, but it wasn't now. Now it was ok. It said a lot. A lot that couldn't and wouldn't be said with words.  
  
The endlessness to his eyes made Sam wonder more about her Colonel than she ever had before. It had never really occurred to her how deep his gaze was. How penetrating his eyes could be when focussed. Now they were focussed on her, and she felt the intensity of the gaze. It drew her in close to him, but still didn't allow her to understand. She still couldn't see what he was hiding away from them. "Say something, Colonel," Sam begged finally. "Please."  
  
The words broke his gaze, and focus. He could no longer look at her. Jack tore his eyes away from Sam, so slowly it felt like slow motion. He wet his lips and looked down at his bed sheets. No one's eyes were in them. No words of worry came from them, and no faces stared back at him. None of his friend's faces. Sam chewed on her top lip for a moment, hoping her CO would look back at her - but he didn't. His silent gaze was down at his bed sheets now. His empty face turned away from the harsh reality of his surroundings. Sam nodded to herself. 'Ok,' she mouthed silently and left the same way. Silently.  
  
@  
  
Dr. Mackenzie returned to the SGC on schedule to find the situation there. Dr. Fraiser took a long time to explain everything about the situation to him, and he felt he understood it all well enough. Dr. Jackson and Major Carter had a turn at saying what they thought and asking questions of the doctor as well. Mackenzie told them all everything he could, but then requested time alone with the one person he'd not had a chance to talk to yet. The person they were all talking about. Colonel O'Neill. "Hello, Colonel," the doctor said with a smile as he sat down beside the silent Colonel's bed.  
  
Mackenzie had never been one of Jack's favourite people, and he knew that, but he felt the situation needed to remain as light as possible. He kept his tone gentle as well as keeping his doctorly firmness. It was something he'd never been able to shake. Some people went for that, others hated it. Jack was one of the ones who wasn't particularly keen on it, but that didn't bother Mackenzie. He was used to having people either love or hate him, and he was fine with whatever they chose. He wasn't there to win popularity contests, and everyone knew that. Whether they liked him as a person or a doctor was their choice.  
  
"Dr. Fraiser has had a talk to me about your great lack of communication, Colonel," Mackenzie got straight to the point. There was no reason to talk shit. Jack knew why Mackenzie was there, so why run circles around that fact? He was a doctor, not a circus clown. "That isn't one of my main worries. You will have to agree with me on this, though, it is rather uncharacteristic of you to be so quiet. Of course, you have every right to decide that you don't really feel like talking much, but, all things considered, it really isn't your style now, is it Colonel? No, I don't think you'll disagree with me there. So, you'll have to admit, that is one fairly noticeable sign that something's not right, isn't it? Well, once again I doubt you'll disagree."  
  
Mackenzie realised he was basically having a conversation with himself, but being outward with his theories to the Colonel seemed like a good way to go about the situation. Apposed to keeping his thoughts private, if Mackenzie said them aloud to Jack, he would hopefully react to something he didn't like hearing. At least Mackenzie hoped so. "So, I suppose you're wishing I would go away and leave you alone now. Am I right, Colonel?"  
  
Inside his head, Jack screamed out, 'Yes!' but outwardly, he made no apparent reaction on the doctor's view. "All right, Colonel. I understand something about you, that I think you hoped no one could see. You're a secure person. You believe in yourself and what you do, but you don't trust yourself sometimes. You think that people dislike you, when they don't and you feel like people are judging you, but they're not. Let me know how right I am here too, please, because I'm just thinking out loud really. Feel free to correct me at any point."  
  
Mackenzie assumed a good position, from the outside. He was dictating. Telling Jack what he was, how he felt, how he saw things, rather than asking. Mackenzie felt as though it was a good strategy to assume for the Colonel, but he didn't realise how wrong he was.  
  
Jack wasn't always secure, confident within himself. He may have been before, but he wasn't so sure now. He didn't really feel as though people were judging him, and if they were, he didn't care. He didn't really think people disliked him. Not a vast majority, but he knew those who he didn't get along with. The people he didn't like generally didn't like him either, so it was a fair arrangement. Overall, the doctor hadn't been terribly accurate in his assumptions. Dr. Mackenzie had gotten one thing right though. Jack didn't trust himself sometimes. Sometimes he felt so uncertain of himself, it scared him. He hid that fact quite convincingly, he thought, but perhaps not. Mackenzie was only making guesses though; he didn't really know what he was talking about. Right?  
  
"My job isn't made easy when I'm talking to myself, Colonel," the doctor admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms. "I guess no one can force you to say anything, but it makes life very difficult for you if you don't." Mackenzie leant back into his chair and pursed his lips, trying to find some way to make this stubborn man speak. "You know you won't be released from the Infirmary until you start talking. Whether you're healthy or not, you will not be allowed to leave here until you say something."  
  
For the first time during this reserved meeting, Jack turned his head slowly towards Dr. Mackenzie. If I have to say something to leave, Jack thought, then I'll say something.  
  
"Something," O'Neill hissed and turned away again. Dr. Mackenzie remained neutral and left his face expressionless as he sat and thought for a moment. He nodded to himself and then left the Colonel alone again, the way he wanted it to stay. Alone. It was quiet, and achingly difficult to stand, but alone was good. Better. Alone was easier.  
  
"Dr. Mackenzie," Dr. Fraiser said as the man returned to her office. "Did your talk g - "  
  
"No, Janet," Mackenzie interrupted gently, "I'm afraid it didn't go well. I talked to myself for a half-an-hour. That man is one of the most stubborn people, I think I've ever met."  
  
"Yes, he's not exactly known for being cooperative."  
  
"That's very true. I thought I would give him even a little incentive to talk by reminding him he would not be allowed to leave the Infirmary without saying something."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And, he did."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Something. That was all he said."  
  
Janet sighed and rolled her eyes. Irony and sarcasm. Two of Jack's favourite defences. Trust him to pick the most sarcastic way to solve a problem. "I'm afraid if his condition or his behaviour, one of the two, doesn't change, we'll have to commit him to mental health," Dr. Mackenzie said truthfully. He wasn't pleased about saying it, but he was afraid it was true.  
  
"That's a bit drastic, isn't it?" Fraiser asked quickly, more horrified at the prospect than Mackenzie.  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid it might be," he agreed, "but it's the only option."  
  
"Surely.surely we can do something else?"  
  
"I wish we could, Janet, I really do, but I just don't think there's any other way to go around it. If Colonel O'Neill doesn't show some signs of improvement within the next few days, I'll be informing General Hammond."  
  
As unbelievable as it all sounded, Janet nodded. Mackenzie might be right, but she didn't believe he was. There might not be any other way to go about it. Jack couldn't spend the rest of his life bound to an Infirmary bed, nor did Janet believe he would want to. Admittedly, he didn't seem to be bothered with it so far, but his physical injuries were still yet to fully heal. When that excuse was no more, there would be no other reasons to keep O'Neill in the Infirmary. He wouldn't be able to go back to normal duties, but other than the fact he wasn't speaking; there would be no other reason to detain him to an Infirmary bed.  
  
Janet wasn't afraid to admit that she wasn't comfortable with the idea of admitting Jack O'Neill to mental health, like they had Dr. Jackson when he was infected by the Goa'uld killers Machello invented. That situation had been quite different though. Daniel had actually outwardly been 'nuts' as Jack had said. Jack wasn't insane though. He was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There was a difference! He wasn't crazy. Of course, if he chose to live the rest of his life without talking to anyone, it would be a rather extreme case of PTSD, but still PTSD. Not schizophrenia, like Daniel. Jack was not schizophrenic. Janet didn't care how many people might say he was, or he was acting as though he could be, she knew he wasn't. He was not suffering from schizophrenia. He just wasn't.  
  
Fraiser had made this personal. She didn't even know why, but something about it made it more important. This was Colonel O'Neill, and he wasn't insane. Committing someone who wasn't mentally ill, to mental health, was an idiotic act and also likely to send the person insane, rather than help them.  
  
@  
  
It was a hard week at the SGC for the members of SG-1, Drs. Fraiser and Mackenzie and General Hammond. Tough decisions were soon to be made, and a departure would result from a negative decision. Everyone knew who that deportee would be. Jack knew they all wanted to get rid of him. Sure, he thought, send me away from here and all your problems will go away. All YOUR problems! Everyone is desperate to know what mine are, but they wouldn't want to deal with them if they knew. God, I don't want to deal with them! Couldn't they just put me out of my misery, or let me do it? What harm would it do? It's not that much of a big deal, really. I wouldn't be missed. No one wants me around like this, and I don't want to be around while life is like this. What's the big deal? Just get me a gun, and I'll end all the problems. Mine and yours. End it all.  
  
Janet had made it so personal that she had nearly lost her temper with O'Neill so many times she was angry with herself for it. More angry than she had been when nearly losing her temper. Sam tried to help in every way she could, but found that her help didn't seem to be needed. Dr. Mackenzie and Dr. Fraiser were both doing their jobs as best they could, and getting no results. How could Sam's help do anything more? If only she could find a way to get through to Jack. She'd begun to think of him as Jack now. Not Colonel or Sir. He just didn't seem like that person anymore. It had become personal for Sam too, because she'd been to P4C 237. She was the only other one who had seen even just a glimpse of what Jack had. She might not understand what he'd been through - she was almost sure she couldn't - but she could at least try to understand better than anyone else. Carter knew she had to use that to her advantage. It had to help.  
  
"Janet," Sam said as she walked in on a conversation between Fraiser and Mackenzie. Their faces told her it was not a pleasant conversation. "What is it?" "We were just discussing Colonel O'Neill's condition," Fraiser replied. She knew Sam would have already guessed that much, but if she should further educate the Major, Janet was uncertain.  
  
"Yeah, I guessed that," Sam confirmed. "What specifically were you discussing?"  
  
"Specifically," Mackenzie said, "we were discussing when it would be necessary to move Colonel O'Neill to mental health." Mackenzie had always been an honest person, and he saw no reason to hide the truth from Major Carter. He knew she'd find it difficult to understand, and probably want an explanation, but he would quite happily explain exactly why it was the best thing to do. Mackenzie firmly believed it was the best thing. The horror of the decision was no longer an issue. It wasn't horrifying. It was a decision and he'd made it.  
  
"What?!" Sam exclaimed. "You can't. Janet, please tell me you're not seriously considering this?"  
  
Fraiser's eyes moved about uneasily, as one does when trying to avoid telling someone the one thing they do not want to hear. Janet didn't know what she believed was right, really, but she knew Mental Health wasn't the answer to Colonel O'Neill's problems. Sam had a fair idea what her friend's answer might be.  
  
"I can't believe this," she said incredulously. "I can't believe you're considering this at all. The Colonel is not mentally ill. How can you say he is? How can you think of doing this, Janet?" Sam wasn't intentionally placing the majority of her anger onto her friend, but it seemed to be the only way she could release her feelings. How could they consider sending her CO away to a mental home? Whatever they were called. How could they even think of it? How could they?  
  
"It's not my decision, Sam," Janet desperately tried to defend herself. It wasn't her choice. She disagreed with the idea just as much, if not more, than Sam did. Janet knew that O'Neill was suffering from PTSD and that Mackenzie didn't really want to spend the time trying to treat him. It was the easy way out; to say that Jack was mentally unstable and ship him off to mental health where they'd throw him in a padded cell and tell him everything would be ok. Janet knew, but there was nothing else she could do. If Mackenzie told General Hammond that Jack was mentally unstable and could no longer function properly as a member of SG-1, Hammond would ask for Mackenzie's advice, as a doctor, and Janet knew what he would suggest. Mental health would be the best place for him, Mackenzie would say, they would take very good, professional care of him. It would be best for Colonel O'Neill that way.  
  
"Then do something about the decision!" Sam was unable to stop her voice from rising in volume.  
  
"I'm afraid that it may be the only thing left to do, Major," Mackenzie said, standing up.  
  
"Why? Because you say so? Because you can't be bothered? Because you're wrong! There's nothing wrong with him. He's fine. You have no idea what it was like on that planet. You didn't see what I saw - what we saw. You have no idea how horrible it was. If you were ever in Colonel O'Neill's current position, I hope the doctor looking after you would decide to ship you off to mental health. Then you'd know how it would feel, doctor."  
  
"Sam," Janet said softly, trying to calm her friend, "this is Dr. Mackenzie's decision, and if he believes it's best for Colonel O'Neill then I really think we both should trust his judgement." Fraiser couldn't believe her words as she said them, but she felt as though she needed to calm Sam down somehow.  
  
"Janet," Sam countered quickly, "how can you say that? His 'judgement' obviously isn't very good as far as I can see."  
  
"Major, I appreciate your concern - "  
  
"No, actually, I don't think you do," Carter cut off Mackenzie harshly, proving just how much she disliked him. Not only as a doctor, but as a person as well.  
  
"Well, that's a shame," Mackenzie said smarmily. He was losing his popularity. Janet decided she needed to voice her true opinion, now that Sam had. She'd lied before when saying that Sam should just accept Mackenzie's judgement. Fraiser didn't want to accept it either. It was bullshit.  
  
"No, actually," Janet said, "I don't think it is a shame. Your judgement is off on this. Colonel O'Neill doesn't need to be admitted to mental health. Sam is right, and you are wrong Dr. Mackenzie."  
  
Being ganged up on wasn't something Mackenzie was used to, but he could find a way out of the situation. He always could. The two women eyed him defiantly and dared him to say they were wrong. Dared him to grow a temper and yell at them. He wouldn't dare give them the satisfaction.  
  
"Perhaps," he said, in regard to Fraiser's earlier declaration that he was wrong, "but I think General Hammond can decide." Mackenzie smiled unctuously and left the office, headed straight to see Hammond. General Hammond can decide. 


	6. Judgement Call

Chapter 4 - Judgement Call  
  
After Dr. Mackenzie had been to the General, Dr. Fraiser went to put forward her beliefs. "General," she said, "Dr. Mackenzie is wrong in saying what he has."  
  
"How so, doctor?" Hammond asked fairly, sitting down behind his desk and offering Fraiser a seat with a gesture of his hand.  
  
"Sending Colonel O'Neill away to mental health will not be in the best interests of the Colonel, General, I assure you." Janet was very passionate about this now. Hammond could hear the doctor's determination by her tone. The way she annunciated each word and pushed forward her point of view.  
  
"Please continue," the General said, nodding for the doctor to go on.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill is not mentally ill, Sir," Janet began, "he's suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's very common following a life threatening or extraordinarily horrifying chain of events. Colonel O'Neill's situation fits perfectly with his symptoms. He's not sleeping, and when he does get a rare hour or so of rest, he wakes up very suddenly, sweating excessively and sometimes crying out. Whatever happened to him on that planet was not pleasant, General, but he is not suffering from schizophrenia or any other mental illness. PTSD, I suppose, could be classified as a mental illness, but in this circumstance, I wouldn't call it one."  
  
"What are you suggesting then, doctor?" Hammond asked, interested in taking in her thoughts.  
  
"Well, General, I'm not really sure," Janet admitted, "but I am sure that committing Colonel O'Neill to mental health will not do him any favours. His condition is not good, but it will only worsen if he's among other seriously ill psychiatric patients. He really needs to be around people he feels comfortable with. Talking is our ultimate goal for the Colonel, Sir. He needs to talk about what happened. It's the best thing for him in the grand scheme of things."  
  
Hammond nodded, trying to understand the full picture from both Dr. Mackenzie's point of view, and Dr. Fraiser's. Both personal opinions were very different, but the General had a strong feeling that Dr. Fraiser's personal opinion was closer to being in Jack's best interest. Medically speaking, it may not be, although Hammond doubted it, but he was more concerned for Jack's best interests than the best medical interests.  
  
"All right, doctor," he said finally, after taking a long four and a half minutes to think. "I like the thought of Colonel O'Neill's best interests being taken care of. If you believe it is best for him to stay here in familiar surroundings, then I trust your judgement. But, I cannot and will not let any of SG-1 return to active duty while their minds aren't fully with what they are doing. Until there is no further worry about Jack's condition, both he and the rest of SG-1 are on stand-down. Do you agree that's fair?" Janet nodded, forcing the smile away from her lips.  
  
"Yes, Sir," she replied and began to leave.  
  
"Oh, and by the way, doctor," Hammond said after her. Janet stopped and turned back to the General.  
  
"I appreciate you coming and letting me know about all of that, rather than allowing Dr. Mackenzie to proceed with his professional judgement call. He's a good doctor, but not always so in touch with the needs of people." Fraiser smiled back at Hammond and nodded as she left.  
  
Dr. Mackenzie was definitely not in touch with his feminine side.  
  
@  
  
"Janet, I need to speak with you," Sam said demandingly.  
  
"Before you say anything, Sam - "  
  
"Janet, you need to say something to General Hammond about Mackenzie's decision. He's a jerk and he doesn't know what he's talking about. If you say something, then - "  
  
"Sam!" Janet said nice and loud, so Sam could hear.  
  
The Major stopped and looked at her friend, her eyes still sharp. "I've already talked to the General," Fraiser said, allowing herself to smile. "He agreed with me. Colonel O'Neill is staying here."  
  
Sam's eyebrows rose and the sharpness left her eyes. "Oh," she said, feeling sheepish. "That's good."  
  
"Yes, I thought you'd be pleased. Now it's just a matter of getting Colonel O'Neill to appreciate our efforts."  
  
Sam nodded, peering out of Janet's office to see the distantly distracted Colonel. "He still hasn't said anything?" she stated, rather than asked.  
  
Janet nodded. "I just don't know what else to try, Sam. I've been through it all a million and one times in my head. I know we don't know what he went through, which is why he is the way he is now, but we can't help without knowing."  
  
"He won't say anything, which brings us back to square one, I know," Sam filled in the gaps for the doctor. "I've been going over it all in my head too. So many times, it hurts. Now when I think about it, I just get a headache. It's definitely harder than physics ever was."  
  
"No wonder I can't figure it out," Janet smiled. Adding some light humour to the situation was the only way for it not to depress everyone involved. It was already stressful enough.  
  
"I think I've read every book I own that has any reference at all in it about PTSD," Fraiser added. "Even that doesn't seem to be any help."  
  
Sam started to chew on her top lip. What else could they do? What other ways were there to go about this? "General Hammond also told me that SG-1, all of you, are on stand-down until Colonel O'Neill is not a worry for you all."  
  
"Good," Sam said absently, nodding. "I'd really rather stay here and try to help."  
  
"Well just don't forget that you need rest too, Sam. I know what you're like."  
  
"Uh huh.don't worry about me. It's the Colonel I'm worried about."  
  
"Yes, I am too. I just don't know what else there is we can do. We haven't tried everything, but there isn't really a whole lot of everything to try."  
  
"What about hypnosis?" Sam asked suddenly, after a long space of silence.  
  
"Hypnosis," Janet repeated, getting a better picture of it in her head. Would that be a good idea? She'd heard that if someone isn't willing, then hypnosis doesn't work, no matter what. If O'Neill wasn't willing, there would be no use trying. "It might work."  
  
Sam nodded, almost to herself and then meandered her way out to her CO. His lack of talk would make it easy for her to explain the idea to him without interruptions. "Colonel," she said, sitting on the bed next to his. "Janet and I just thought of something to help you."  
  
Although Jack's pattern of thought wasn't focussed on the words Carter was saying to him, he drew his eyes away from the ceiling and looked at her. Sam was grateful for the recognition. "How would you feel about trying hypnosis, Colonel?" she asked, almost holding her breath in anticipation. Please, Colonel, she thought, please try this. Please let us help you. Let us try.  
  
Jack could almost hear Carter hoping he'd say yes. Hoping he'd agree to let them try to help him. Why? Why should he? He didn't need their help anyway. I just want you all to leave me alone, Jack thought tiredly. Is that so much to ask? That you just leave me alone? Perhaps if he let them do this, and it didn't work, then they would give up. Then they would realise how fruitless their attempts to help him were, and they would drop it. They would finally grant him his wish, to be left alone. Sam watched her CO's eyes drift away, while thinking. She could almost see the deep thoughts through his distant gaze. All she wanted - all they wanted - was to help him. That's all. Just to help.  
  
"You don't have to try it, Sir," Sam said, to reassure O'Neill that he was under no pressure. "It was just an idea. We thought it might be a good one, but if you don't want to do it, that's ok." Using subtlety was probably not going to gain Sam any of the answers she sought, but it was worth a try.  
  
Jack swallowed hard and asked himself the obvious questions. Was this a good idea? Would this make them finally give him what he wanted? If he did this, would he reveal the very things he was trying to hide? The very things he didn't want to remember. Would this make everything harder, or easier? Was it worth the risk? Was it worth trying?  
  
"Ok," he said finally and very quietly. He knew Carter had heard him. Sam nodded, almost to herself and forced the mild smile away from her face. She wasn't sure she was ready to hear what her CO had been through on P4C 237 after she left, but it wasn't about her. This was going to help Colonel O'Neill. He needed this help. They all knew he needed it.  
  
@  
  
"Janet." Dr. Fraiser turned around to see her friend standing in the doorway of her office, looking just as young and vivacious as she always had.  
  
"Kayla," Janet smiled and approached the woman.  
  
"Oh, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Kayla asked as she embraced her friend and then pushed her back to take a look at her. "Ah, you still look lovely, Janet," she smiled.  
  
"So do you," Fraiser returned the compliment and invited her friend to sit down. Kayla O'Shaunessy and Janet Fraiser had been friends since high school. The pair hadn't seen each other in years, and were pleased to see one another after such a long time.  
  
Kayla was a short woman, perhaps a few inches taller than Janet. Her wavy, short, ash-blonde hair sat on the back of her head in a neat bun, as she always wore it for work. Out, it rested just below her shoulders. Her shimmering green eyes were as vibrant as Janet remembered them, and Kayla's smile hadn't changed a bit; it could still light up anyone's day. Her pasty white Irish skin was still as clean and youthful as ever, and she still had her trim figure. The two women smiled at each other for a long moment. "Well, I must say," Kayla said, "I was surprised when they told me you would be here."  
  
Kayla had studied in similar fields as Janet, but then moved on to specialize in Psychology later. Janet had no idea Kayla was in any way involved with The Pentagon or organizations around the SGC, but clearly, she was, otherwise they wouldn't have sent her. "I'm just as surprised that you're here," Janet smiled, offering her friend a seat.  
  
"I've no doubt," Kayla's beautiful Irish accent was still as prominent as ever when she spoke.  
  
Janet had always loved it. "Now, you must help me out here, Janet," Kayla said. "I know everything about this place is classified because all I'm allowed to know about your patient is his name."  
  
"Yeah," Janet almost sighed at the thought, "it's a bit like that around here."  
  
"So I guessed," Kayla laughed. "Surely you can tell me a little more about this, Colonel O'Neill."  
  
"Not a lot, I'm afraid."  
  
"I see. Well I suppose I'll have to find out for myself then, won't I?" Kayla smiled brightly, revealing her lovely straight, gleaming white teeth. "Where is he, then?"  
  
"Janet."  
  
Another voice invited itself into the conversation. When Janet lifted her eyes to see Sam standing in the doorway, she smiled. "Sam," the doctor said, "come in."  
  
"Well, hello," Kayla greeted the Major cheerfully; standing up and smiling her dazzling smile once again.  
  
Sam smiled uncertainly, without showing her teeth, and then looked back to Janet for an introduction. "Oh!" the doctor exclaimed, also standing up. "Sam, this is a friend of mine, Kayla O'Shaunessy. She's here to help with the hypnosis you suggested trying. Kayla, this is Major Carter."  
  
"It's nice to meet you," Kayla said, nodding her head. "You're Sam Carter then, are you?"  
  
"Yeah," Sam replied, still feeling a little out of it. "You're."  
  
"Irish," Kayla smiled with a giggle, "sure am. Are you my patients'. wife?" A rope almost wrapped around Sam's neck at the thought. She could almost feel her face turning blue, or red. Her mouth slowly opened, but no words came out. She looked to the floor and slowly began to shake her head. Wife.  
  
"No, no," Janet filled in, "Sam's on the same team as Colonel O'Neill. She's his second in command."  
  
"Oh," Kayla said, nodding. She almost felt bad now, for asking. She noticed that Sam was incredibly quiet and distant suddenly. "Are you all right?"  
  
Sam didn't even really understand the words, but thought they might be directed at her, considering she was the only one acting strangely. She looked up and slowly nodded her head again. "I didn't mean to upset you," Kayla said, just to reinforce her apology.  
  
Sam nodded again, equally as slowly as before, and then she began to leave Janet's office. "Sam," Janet called after her friend, "don't you want to be there when Kayla talks to the Colonel?"  
  
Sam stopped. "Oh," she breathed.  
  
"You sure you're ok, Sam?" Fraiser asked.  
  
Sam lightened her expression and raised her eyebrows. "Yeah," she said, a little more convincingly. "I'm ok."  
  
"Oh, that is good," Kayla added with a smile, "I don't need another patient, now do I?"  
  
The group smiled and made their way to where O'Neill was.  
  
Kayla surveyed the man and took mental notes. Blankness, distracted gaze, silence, apathetic. "Colonel, this is Dr. O'Shaunessy," Janet introduced her friend.  
  
Kayla shook her head no. "Kayla's fine, Colonel," she said. "Would you prefer I call you by your first name?"  
  
Jack made no attempt to respond. "All right then, I'll just stick to Colonel," Kayla went on, unperturbed. "Now before I do anything, I must ask that you two," she looked to Janet and Sam, "please stay very quiet. Any sounds or movement will be a distraction, and may cause the hypnotic state to be interrupted. Some of the things I ask, or some of the responses you hear may be disturbing, or unnerving, but I ask you please don't comment. If you feel upset or uncomfortable at any time, you can leave, but quietly. The same thing applies for you, Colonel. If at any time you feel uncomfortable or that you cannot go on, that's fine. You can very simply ease yourself out of the hypnosis. We can perhaps, try again, or leave it alone for today. I'm not fussed by either idea. Is that all right? Is everyone happy with all that? I'm sorry for the orders, I must sound terrible."  
  
Janet smiled, and nodded. "Got it," she said. "Sam?"  
  
"Yes," Sam agreed, "I understand." She wasn't sure she was ready to hear everything that had happened to her CO, but if it got too much for her, she could leave. It was likely she would.  
  
"All right," Kayla said, "I'm going to begin now, are you ok with that, Colonel?" Again, Jack didn't say anything.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have ask you to respond, Colonel. I won't go on without hearing from you that it is ok."  
  
"Yes," Jack said, "it's fine."  
  
"Ok."  
  
***  
  
Once inside the torture chamber, the guards shut the door. Darkness surrounded me. I felt cold, but I wasn't sure if it was me or just the weather. The guard named Lopbell tied my thumbs together in front of me, with frayed, dirty rope. It looked like it had seen better days. I was pretty sure I'd be feeling like that soon. The other guard stood me up, stripped me of my shirt and wrapped some more rope around my wrists. Lopbell - who I'd christened Bell Boy - saw to my ankles. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," I told him, but I only got a fist across my face for my efforts. "Sure," I muttered, "you probably already knew that."  
  
"Be silent," Bell Boy growled, practically throwing me across the room to the far wall.  
  
I got up close and personal with that wall for a long time that day. After Bell Boy shoved me in front of it and had two other guards hold me against it, he got out his favourite whip. I didn't know how much blood I'd lost by the end of it all, but it hadn't been enough for me to lose consciousness. As far as I was concerned, I wished I'd lost more. After twenty-something lashes, I lost count of how many times that whip was thrown against my back. I could feel the blood running down my cold, bare skin and that the skin was slowly being torn away. It felt like it was all just hanging there, shredded like cheese. Bell Boy didn't seem satisfied though. It wasn't enough that I barely had any skin left on my back, no. No, he needed more than that. The two other unnamed guards gripped my shoulders hard, as though they wanted to dislocate them. Bell Boy left the chamber, but came back quickly. He had some leafy looking thing in his hand; I caught a glimpse of it as the door closed behind him.  
  
My back was red-raw in pain, and that was an advantage for Bell Boy's friends. They both scribbled the blades' of their swords around, like my back was their canvas. It created ripples of flowing, burning pain, and I couldn't stop my mouth from opening. Bell Boy took the opportunity to shove his leaf in my mouth and then clamp his hands around my jaw to keep it shut. Whatever his leaf was, it sure as hell stung. My mouth was bone dry from dehydration, and the leaf, or whatever it was, sent sparks of pain down my throat. I wanted to throw up, and spit out the stupid plant, but Bell Boy's grip was solid. He wasn't letting go. One of his friends behind me lightly gripped my throat - checking to see I had swallowed the plant. I didn't want to swallow it. It was burning so bad inside my mouth; I didn't want to think what it would feel like if I swallowed it. Bell Boy didn't seem to care about that though, and had his other friend hold my nose, so I couldn't breathe. I could almost feel my face turning blue. I needed to breathe, badly. I could feel myself slowly losing consciousness. I had to hold on. But I couldn't swallow that thing!  
  
"You will swallow it!" Bell Boy shouted in my face, as though he could hear my thoughts. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't going to. Tell him I'd rather die than give him the satisfaction, but when the tip of a sword again began to scribble on my back, I had to swallow. Immediately Bell Boy released my mouth and the other guard, my nose. I quickly drank in large gulps of air, like it was trying to get away from me. I felt like I was on a merry-go-round with monotonous music, only everything was happening too fast. The room was spinning around me as my throat burned from the leaf I had swallowed. Bell Boy smiled, he thought it was fun to watch, and then knocked me to the ground.  
  
I hit it so hard, it hurt. My face stung where the dirt and small rocks had scraped my skin and drawn more blood. My head spun endlessly and my throat burned like I had swallowed fire. My vision was so blurred now; I hadn't even noticed how hazy everything looked. Bell Boy was just a fuzz before my eyes as he wrenched me to my feet by my hair. He held me, just above the ground, by my hair and stared at me. He definitely wasn't struggling to hold me up, which surprised me a little. I'm not that heavy, but I'm not light either, that's for sure. There was no notable effort in holding me up, though, from Bell Boy. He sneered and threw me away like a rag-doll. I felt like one as I landed and heard a crack. The urge to scream out in pain seemed to have been swallowed inside me, along with that plant. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth in agony, but no sound came out. My left arm was at an ugly angle, underneath me. The pain ripped from my fingers and up to my shoulder, and then rippled into a agonising tingle as I slowly lost the feeling in my entire arm. I wanted to move and ease the pain, but I couldn't. I could hardly breathe. I couldn't define anything I saw, it was all so screwed up! Whatever that plant was, it sure had made the world a blurry, painful place. I felt strong hands encircle my throat and hold - tight. I tried desperately, but had no strength to resist. I laid there on the ground, motionless and let the air be taken away from me for a second time. Gradually, my body took away my awareness and I slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
***  
  
Janet, Sam and Kayla sat in silence. It had taken a lot of strength from Jack for him to tell them what he just had. Sam knew that was only the beginning. Knew that wasn't the worst of what her CO had been through, but it was enough for her. It was enough, because it was so hard for him to tell them. It had hurt him to tell them. They could all see it, burning so strongly in his velvet brown eyes. The sheer agony it had been for him to go through such events everyday and then relive it all by telling them. "Janet, I'd like to talk to you and Sam for a moment please," Kayla spoke so softly, as though it would be criminal to speak louder than a whisper. Major and doctor nodded and followed Kayla to Janet's office.  
  
"What is it?" Janet asked, worried.  
  
"He has been through some horrifying experiences before this, I imagine," Kayla said, "but this is very serious. I don't know if any other people he knows were there with him?"  
  
"I was," Sam answered, "but not for long."  
  
"So you went through the same ordeal then?"  
  
"Not exactly. Not at all, really. I was tortured, but nothing like.nothing like that."  
  
"No," Kayla murmured, mostly to herself. "I don't know what to make of all this yet. I can definitely see the PTSD, though, as you mentioned in the report I got, Janet. The signs are very noticeable, and for good reason too, I believe. Although, this torture he experienced, it was so, so brutal. So vicious, and heartless. Of course, I know that torture wouldn't exactly be a good Samaritans' job, but they've repeatedly tortured this man, until he was close to death I imagine. It's really quite a miracle he's still with us. I don't know how he survived. If this was a daily routine, as Colonel O'Neill explained, then he must have been incredibly strong-minded, and physically strong, to last through it."  
  
Janet could see her friend was coming up with a theory. She could see, in Kayla's emerald green eyes, that she was thinking very deeply. "What are you thinking, Kayla?" Fraiser asked.  
  
"I believe that these people, with their daily torture, were trying to send your Colonel insane," Kayla responded finally. "I think that they knew what they were doing so well and they knew, given long enough, he would eventually lose control. He would eventually no longer be able to hold himself together, and he would break. They were counting on him breaking. What a cruel thing for people to do."  
  
"Do you think they wanted to kill him?" Sam queried, her eyes red-rimmed.  
  
"Actually, no, I don't think they did," Kayla replied. "I think this was some kind of a revenge. I'm not really sure, it's just a guess, but I think something happened that involved your Colonel and they were torturing him as a punishment. Trying to push him over the edge."  
  
Sam nearly choked on her own breath. Something involving him.torturing him as punishment. He'd made Sam leave. He knew they'd notice she was gone. They would have asked him about her escape. Where she had gone. How she'd gotten away. They were torturing Colonel O'Neill because Sam got away and they'd gone to P4C 237 together. It was her fault.  
  
Tears started welling in Sam's eyes, and then began to streak down her cheeks. "It's my fault!" she cried suddenly.  
  
Janet and Kayla turned to her, wide-eyed.  
  
"What?" Janet asked, going quickly to her friend. Sam couldn't find words. "Sam, what is it?"  
  
"It's my fault.God, it's my fault," Carter sobbed as Janet guided her to a chair.  
  
"Sit down. What's your fault?" Fraiser begged.  
  
"They knew I left.they probably traced it back to the missing GDO he took.they blamed him.they knew he had something to do with it. They tortured him because I left.it's my fault!"  
  
"Calm down, Sam," Janet said, taking her friends' hand in her own.  
  
Sam looked up at the doctor, her eyes red, with tears falling from them. "It's my fault, Janet," she said. "It is. He made me go. They knew. They knew he got the GDO. They knew he knew where I'd gone. They knew! They were torturing him, because they wanted him to suffer, for letting me get away."  
  
"Major Carter," Kayla said calmly, sitting in the chair beside Sam, "I was making a theory as to what happened while your Colonel was gone for those four months. I don't know any of what I said is true. It's just a theory. You really can't blame yourself for something I am surmising. Please, wait until your Colonel talks a little more about what happened."  
  
Kayla's soothing voice calmed Sam. She didn't understand how, but it seemed to relax her nerves and help her breathing slow to a regular rate. She nodded slowly and wiped her eyes. She was jumping to conclusions. She wasn't sure about all of that stuff she thought.  
  
Nothing was proven yet.  
  
*** 


	7. The Pain Of Memories

Chapter 5 - The Pain of Memories  
  
The same routine was repeated for a second time, when I went back to the torture chamber the next day. I think I knew I was going to be here everyday from now on, but somehow I made myself believe they'd forget about me after a while. They'd get sick of me. They didn't get sick of me.  
  
Bell Boy was there, as always. I was beginning to think he just got a kick out of torturing me. I didn't think that was too far from the truth, either. Bell Boy and his two mates brought the same 'less talk, more torture' attitudes with them again too. "Is it something in the water that makes you guys sycophants, or are you just really bored?" I thought I'd ask. It wouldn't hurt them to answer. It would more than likely hurt me to ask, but not them to answer.  
  
"Be silent!" Bell Boy shouted, as though I couldn't hear him. The chamber itself made everything echo and sound ten times louder than it really was. His voice was already loud enough.  
  
"Well, it's a simple question really," I said, "I just wanna know if you - "  
  
Bell Boy had had enough, already. He thumped his bear sized fist across my face, nearly making me stumble to the ground. "Ok," I muttered, "maybe it's not so simple."  
  
"Be silent!" Bell Boy's friends got in on the act.  
  
"Yeah, I heard," I grumbled.  
  
"Yet you persist!" guard number one shouted, proud of himself.  
  
I nodded. I could see he was feeling pretty good about himself now, why spoil his party? Bell Boy took out his prized possession. The one thing I wished I didn't have to see again. That godforsaken plant. I still didn't know what it really was, or what it was made of, but whatever it was, it sure sent me for six. It was like being drunk and swallowing fire while taking a few quick and hard punches to the stomach. A fairly strong combination anyway. Much worse than anything I'd ever drank before. Bell Boy got his mates to hold me down again, and then he tried to force my mouth open, but there was no way I was willingly going to swallow that thing again. I clamped my jaw shut as hard as I could, until my teeth started to hurt, while Bell Boy tried to force my mouth open. His mates beat at my back with their whips and he tried everything he could to make me open up, but I wasn't giving in this time. The feeling I woke up with after the last time I'd swallowed that damned leaf was.well there was just no way I was swallowing it again. No way.  
  
Bell Boy had his guards plant their hands on my shoulders, and he grabbed his own hands around my throat. He meant business this time, too. His grip was tight - strangling, to use exactly the right word. I tried not to let the lightness fill my head as air was ripped away from me, but I had no power against it. I quickly began to lose control of my senses. I could almost feel my skin-losing colour, as I lost air in my lungs. I was not going to have that leaf in my mouth. All I had to do was gasp for breath, and they would shove it down my throat again; I knew that. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to open my mouth to drink in just a little bit of air, but I wouldn't let myself.  
  
I didn't have much more time before I was gone. I could still feel the almost distant whip lashes on my back. It didn't seem to hurt much anymore. It felt like my back wasn't even part of me. Like the sensations were detached and not actually part of my body. I didn't know why, but Bell Boy hung on tight to my throat. He didn't release his grip one little bit. Eventually, I lost consciousness.  
  
***  
  
Kayla nodded, taking note of the dark bruising still smudged like black and blue chalk around Colonel O'Neill's neck. She had been listening intently to his words as he spoke. Every single thing he said, she noted in her head and analysed. It all made sense to her, even though she didn't understand any of it. It was a contradictive statement, but it made sense to her. Everything this man described was horrible, but none of it seemed to track for her. Something about it seemed wrong. Didn't fit. "Janet, Sam," Kayla said finally, "can I have a moment alone with your Colonel?"  
  
Sam didn't really understand why this doctor persisted in calling O'Neill, their Colonel, but she and Janet nodded simultaneously anyway. Both of them stood and left, wondering what Kayla would talk to the Colonel about.  
  
"Colonel," Kayla said carefully, "or would you prefer I called you by your first name? I know I've already asked that, but I thought now might be a nice time to ask again." Kayla flashed her dazzling smile. She was a very personal doctor. She liked to know her patients well, and have them feel comfortable in her using their names, and visa versa. She wasn't sure Jack was comfortable with that, but she was willing to try to find out.  
  
"Ok," Jack replied. He found talking still something he wasn't comfortable with, but somehow Kayla made it seem a little easier.  
  
She nodded at his response, grateful that he was at least trying to recover. It was a good sign. "Good then," Kayla smiled again.  
  
She felt happy now, in knowing Jack was comfortable with her using his name. If he was comfortable with that, hopefully he would gradually become comfortable with her, as a person. Kayla found when a patient was happy to be addressed by their first name; it was a step in the right direction. She wasn't sure why, but she'd always felt that way and always would.  
  
"Now then, Jack," Kayla couldn't stop herself from smiling again. It always felt different using a patients' name for the first time. "I don't really know a whole lot about you, surprising as it sounds. Your file was extremely useless in the way of general information, as these classified files always are. Anyway, although your file may have been useless, you are in fact allowed to tell me about yourself if you feel comfortable doing so. I was wondering if you'd mind doing that? You, of course, don't have to tell me anything at all and if you choose to do that, I will feel no differently about you, believe me. I've had many rude patients in my time, and you are certainly not one of them, so I will hold nothing against you if you'd like to keep your personal life exactly the way it is; personal."  
  
Jack listened silently to the soothing, smooth Irish accent of the doctor as she talked to him. Her voice seemed to draw a calm and light mood. She was friendly, cheerful and seemed to have a calming effect on people. Jack felt relaxed as she spoke, but still tense inside. He'd almost forgotten she'd actually asked him a question, until she reminded him. "Colonel?" Kayla slipped back into formality, hoping she hadn't bored her patient to death.  
  
Although Jack was still distant from Kayla, he managed to respond. "Sorry," he apologised distractedly.  
  
Kayla nodded and half-smiled, to herself more than anything. She watched Jack, looking away from her. She could see he wasn't looking away for a reason. To her, he just seemed distant. Kayla wasn't even really sure he was on the same planet as she was. "Are you feeling all right, Colonel?" Kayla asked the stupidly logical question, just to be sure. "Would you like me to call Janet back here for you?"  
  
At the mention of calling the doctor, Jack shook his head quickly. "No," he replied solidly. "Sorry."  
  
"All right then," Kayla smiled, she found it something she just loved doing. "Would you prefer to be left alone then? I'm going to be here as long as I'm needed, so I won't run away on you." Kayla chuckled to herself. Why she always felt happy, nobody had ever been able to quite figure out, but she made for a great companion, as well as a great doctor.  
  
Jack shook his head at her question, however. Words didn't seem necessary, so Kayla merely nodded in agreement, and sat quietly by Jack's bed, watching him with her emerald green eyes.  
  
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The silence reigned like a big white sheet over them. Kayla was contemplating leaving after nearly a whole half hour, before Jack spoke. "I wished," he said, his voice no louder than the soft rustle of leaves in Fall, "that they'd kill me, everyday. I've never wished anything like that before, except when my kid." Jack stopped - his expression saddening. The memory of Charlie's death hurt more than any pain he'd felt on P4C 237. "The funny thing is," he went on, pushing past the initial sad memories of his son, "they never granted me my wish. I asked them. Almost resorted to begging. I wanted to die there, in the end. I wanted them to kill me."  
  
Kayla leant forward, her arms crossed over her knees. Sometimes being a doctor was a hard thing for her, but she was good at what she did. She knew she was. Perhaps it was presumptuous for her to know, but without confidence in herself, it would make her work all that much harder.  
  
Jack's situation was strange, or it seemed that way to Kayla. He'd been held captive and tortured. Yes, this was something horrifying; he had every reason to be emotionally and physically scarred. Yet, there was an emptiness to his eyes that Kayla couldn't quite understand. Something that seemed far deeper than just what she knew. "I know this may seem like one of the stupidest questions anyone could ask," Kayla spoke, she wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but she felt she needed to ask, "but, aside from the obvious, were there other reasons for you wanting to die there? Something else you haven't talked about?"  
  
This question seemed to silence both doctor and Colonel. Jack didn't know what to say now. He shouldn't have been that open with his thoughts and feelings. He had wanted to die there, yes, but no one else needed to know that.  
  
"Can - can I be alone now, please?" he asked.  
  
Kayla nodded, without a smile. "Of course," she said, quietly beginning to leave. Then she stopped.  
  
Perhaps asking that question had been digging too far. Digging in places there was no dirt or sand.  
  
//'You're in the arms of the angels  
  
May you find some comfort here'//  
  
***  
  
When I woke up, I was alone. I hadn't been alone in a long time. It felt strange. As though I had all this space to myself, even though I knew I didn't. It wasn't my space. I didn't have my own space anymore. Any space I happened to be in, wasn't mine. The shadows cast around the room created a feeling of solitude. Of distance from people, from civilization. Not far from the truth really. There were only two windows in this chamber anyway, but they were both covered over with something. I couldn't really tell what, and I didn't really care. My lungs were tight and sore - breathing hurt. Probably my own fault, but it didn't matter. They'd be back soon enough. Back to resume my endless torture. What I'd done to deserve it all, I still wasn't entirely clear on, but I was sure they'd keep it that way. Truth be told, there probably wasn't a reason for any of it. They seemed to be having a damned good time. Too much of a good thing, isn't that what they say? That didn't seem to have any relevance to them though. Their fun was constant. Endless. Their fun was me.  
  
Just as I'd predicted not two minutes earlier, Bell Boy and his mates returned. The endlessness of torture had returned. It was then I realised I was tied up. I don't know why it had taken me so long to figure that out, but my senses seemed to be damaged, my reflexes slower than usual. They brought their famous leaf again; Bell Boy and his mates. Always the same two mates, too. Seemed odd there would be friends sharing in the torture of someone, but then again, the whole concept of unjustified torture was pretty wacky too, so it didn't really account for anything. "You have awoken," Bell Boy stated, as though I were an animal being prepared for slaughter.  
  
I kinda felt that way. "I have," my voice rasped weakly from my throat, a little more painfully than I had expected. I knew my neck was pretty badly bruised; it was tender enough for me to know without checking.  
  
"Less fortunate for you," Bell Boy added in what he clearly thought was a jaunty tone. I had news for him; it was a long way from jaunty.  
  
"I guessed that much," I sighed. It was going to be a long day. Much longer than I expected.  
  
I'd heard something about Japanese or Chinese, can't remember which one, Water Torture before, I don't really remember where. I heard it was something like being locked in a room with a dripping tap and having no way of stopping it. The sound of the dripping eventually sent people insane, or something like that. So I'd heard anyway. The torture I endured wasn't quite the same as that, but there was water involved, if that counted for anything.  
  
I was taken out into the village, open for everyone to see. It was so cold, so dark. It seemed to be winter all the time here. I was strapped to a wooden plank of some sort and it was flipped upside-down on some kind of pivot. At first, I had no idea what they were going to do while I felt the blood rushing to my head. Bell Boy had managed to shove his stupid leaf down my throat, and he seemed mighty pleased about that little achievement. I started to feel disorientated very soon after swallowing that damned plant, and I wasn't at all happy about it. I barely remember being strapped down on that plank. When Bell Boy flipped it, so I was upside-down, I nearly shared some of the contents of my stomach with them, but just managed to stop myself. I doubted very much there was a whole lot in my stomach to share anyhow. I was never fed. My head was spinning at a million miles an hour; I felt like I'd been knocked over the head with a baseball bat, way too many times. What I didn't realise in my dazed state, was that there was a trough of water below my head. When I did realise that, I also realised what they had planned.  
  
For the next few hours, maybe less, maybe more, I was dunked like a tea bag into that trough of water. Sometimes for long intervals of up to a couple of minutes, sometimes just briefly, but enough to make me cough and splutter each time. Having already blurred senses, my reflexes seemed to follow suit. Taking a long breath before being thrown into a trough of water didn't seem to occur to me in the seconds before. I was close to losing consciousness several times, but just managed to hold onto enough air. I don't really know how. Bell Boy had a good laugh while he and his mates took it in turns to dunk me. It was a whole heap of fun for them.  
  
Villagers walked by, seeing to their daily duties. A few of them stopped to have a look. I didn't expect any of them to help me, I knew they couldn't, but I wished they would. I swallowed so much water. I was thirsty, granted, but I didn't need that much. I think subconsciously I got used to it, and slowly began to adjust my breathing, but consciously all I knew was that my head was pounding so hard I was almost sure it would explode. It didn't, but it might as well have, because for the four days I was Bell Boy's tea bag. I nearly went insane.  
  
***  
  
Kayla couldn't seem to lift her feet from the ground. While she'd been standing, listening to Jack, someone had surely come and put glue on the bottoms of her shoes, for now she had no power to lift them. When Jack spoke, his voice seemed to be like a magnet, drawing people in to listen. Kayla lost her own voice, and was glued to Jack's, along with her feet being glued to the floor. Jack's face showed no expression, but his words said more than enough. Kayla wasn't sure what it was about the way he spoke, but tears had gathered under her eyes whilst listening.  
  
O'Neill's graphic detail of what torture he had suffered through seemed to draw some strange emotion from Kayla. She rarely cried, and it was something she prided herself on. She hated to cry, it was totally against what she was about. She was a happy person. Always if possible. But when this man spoke, somehow it tugged an emotional string and rendered her unable to stop the tears from rising to her eyes. Kayla hadn't even cried when her parents were killed in a massacre at a shopping mall, two years after she'd finished high school. She was young then, younger than now. Of course, she had cried in the privacy of her bedroom. It was stupid to say she hadn't cried at all. But at the funeral, no tears had left her eyes. She'd kept her emotions hidden, appeared strong. It was how she liked it. And yet, when Jack spoke, there was something about his words. Something about what he said.  
  
A long while went by, and Kayla stood still. Time seemed to stand still along with her. She'd never felt this way before. Never felt this strange emotional charge. It wasn't right for her to feel it, she never had before, but she couldn't stop it.  
  
"I'll - " she started to say, but no more words followed. God, she thought angrily, why is this having such an effect on me? This has never happened before, and I've seen so many cases similar to this. Why is this happening? Why can't I control my emotions? Without trying to say anything else, Kayla left the Infirmary. She was having too much trouble with this. It wasn't supposed to work this way.  
  
@  
  
"Doctor?" A familiar voice drifted into the room. Kayla lifted her eyes from the pages in front of her.  
  
"Major Carter," she acknowledged.  
  
"Sam," Carter corrected lightly. "Is it ok if I come in?"  
  
Kayla nodded. "Of course."  
  
"I - well I just wanted to know what you'd - uhh,"  
  
"You were wondering what I'd decided was wrong with your Colonel? There are very few other ways to word the question," Kayla smiled; she knew what Sam had been trying to do.  
  
Sam nodded. She was grateful Kayla had been so gracious. "Yeah," the Major agreed.  
  
"Well in response to your question, I haven't decided anything is wrong with him,"  
  
Kayla said, a slightly drained sound to her voice. "In fact, I'm not certain there's anything wrong. I'm not certain of anything really, just yet."  
  
"What do you mean there's nothing wrong? I don't understand."  
  
"I can't explain it, really. I'm not sure of anything at the moment. I'm not finished here yet, though, so don't worry."  
  
"Do you mean - " Sam started.  
  
"I don't mean anything," Kayla stopped her. "It's all just hazy guesses for now, Major. I won't know anything for sure for a little while yet. I'm sorry. It's all very confusing."  
  
"You're not wrong," Sam agreed.  
  
Both doctor and Major managed small smiles. "I will inform you as soon as I feel I have something solid to go on," Kayla reassured Sam. Carter nodded. She knew.  
  
"I'll leave you alone," she said.  
  
Kayla watched the Major leave her guest quarters. "I don't know if I really want to be alone," she whispered to herself.  
  
@  
  
Sam stood by the door of the Infirmary for a little while, just watching her CO from afar. It seemed easier that way. His eyes were harder to look at when they were open. Now they were closed. Sam half-smiled to herself. He looked troubled and yet serene at the same time.  
  
Why do I always think of him this way? Sam thought. Why do I always feel as though he's someone close to me? He's my CO, nothing else. Just my CO. O'Neill noticed Carter standing by the Infirmary door. He was tempted to say something, to let her know he was ok with her being there, but words just didn't seem ready for him. Or he wasn't ready for words. He wasn't sure. When Sam noticed her CO looking at her, she smiled and approached him. "I just came to see how - " Sam started to say, but stopped. She just came to see how he was doing? Isn't that what everyone said? Everyone said they were just coming to see how he was doing. Was Sam really just there to see how her Colonel was doing? Was that all? "I just came to see you, Sir," Sam corrected herself. She was there to see how he was, but she was also just there because she cared. Because she wanted to see him.  
  
"I noticed," Jack said, managing a small smile for his second in command as he felt her eyes on him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her just yet, not that he really knew why, but he felt a little more comfortable talking to her now. That was at least something.  
  
"Oh," Sam breathed, a little uncomfortably. Now she felt awkward. Maybe she shouldn't have come. At least her Colonel seemed a little more comfortable with talking to her. That was a good thing.  
  
"Everyone's asking me how I am," Jack said, finally bringing himself to look up. "I never get to ask anyone how they are."  
  
"You can ask me, if you want to," Sam offered, with a smile. She felt glad O'Neill had said that. It had stopped her from shoving her foot in her mouth by asking him how he was.  
  
"How are you, Carter?"  
  
"I'm good, Colonel. Thanks for asking."  
  
Awkward silence. "I want to ask you how you are, Sir, but I'm afraid to," Sam confessed, sitting down on the bed next to her CO's.  
  
"I'm ok, Carter. It's ok; I don't mind you asking. I'm used to it."  
  
"I don't want to ruin you not minding me asking how you are," Sam said, "but, are you sure you're ok, Sir?"  
  
"Where's Teal'c lately? And Daniel?" Jack changed the subject, because he didn't want to answer Sam's question. It was easier to change the subject than tell her he didn't want to answer. Sam got the message loud and clear. She didn't want to ruin this time they had, so she left it alone.  
  
"I think Daniel is studying something, as always," she replied, "and I'm not really sure where Teal'c is. I haven't seen him."  
  
"All too scared to come near me," Jack mumbled. He felt as though everyone felt that way. Stay away from Jack, he's psycho these days. "Don't blame them I guess."  
  
"No one feels that way, Colonel," Sam said quickly. "We're all here for you."  
  
"Yah," he murmured. Then silence encompassed them.  
  
*** 


	8. When Loneliness Calls

Chapter 6 - When Loneliness Calls  
  
For some reason, I got the weekend off. It felt strange, being alone. Being weak as Hell, barely able to move, but alone. I woke up in the barn; the place the doctor of the village took care of the lucky ones. The lucky ones she found and helped. It seemed I was now one of those lucky ones. I didn't feel lucky, but I guess I was. When I woke up, the doctor was beside me in a second. Her blue eyes looked tired, as though she'd been awake all night. That didn't surprise me. She always stayed awake, as though something might happen during the night. Her name was Azyalae. She was a servant - a slave. Just like everyone in this godforsaken place. She was friendly and pleasant to be around. For the moment, all I knew was that it was her beside me. I could just barely make out her eyes, but even they were a blur. My vision was poor. The barn was too bright for my eyes to cope with. It felt like I'd been in darkness for so long. Brightness stung my eyes now. I squinted in the intensity of the light around me, finding it difficult to sustain consciousness. My eyelids felt so heavy. They wanted me to give in - to fall back into unconsciousness - I could feel it. My head felt heavy too, everything was blurred. My thoughts were confused and fuzzy. Nothing made sense. Nothing was clear.  
  
"You must rest," Azyalae's voice washed into my head like a distant song. I could hear it, but the words were so muddled. Were there words at all, or was I imagining I could hear her? I hated feeling so confused, so uncoordinated and drowsy.  
  
"What?" I tried to ask. I tried to form words, but to me it just sounded like a muffled mess of sound. I didn't know if I'd really said anything at all, or if Azyalae was in fact beside me. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was dead. I didn't know anything anymore.  
  
"Shh, lay still and rest. You are exhausted. You need to rest. I shall stay with you, by your side."  
  
I couldn't really understand what she said, but I was almost sure I wasn't dreaming. It sounded like a faraway noise, but her voice was too real for me to be dreaming. If anything, I felt as though I should be dead. Everything they'd done to me, I just didn't understand how I could still be alive. I wished I wasn't. I didn't think I could cope with anything more they had to throw at me. I knew there would be a whole lot more, but I just didn't know if I could keep on suffering through it all. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten anything, and the only water I'd had lately was my tea-bag experience. I felt weak. Felt useless. I had no energy to fight this torture. No will to stand up to it anymore. There was really no use in me trying to stay strong, because it wasn't going to solve anything. They weren't going to magically become caring, nice guys who felt sorry for me.  
  
I knew I shouldn't be so weak; I shouldn't give in so easily. I did know, but it didn't make any difference to how I felt. I wasn't giving in so easily. I'd been through this torture for weeks now. It wasn't as though I wasn't used to that sort of thing, but this was worse than anything I'd been through before. No, that wasn't true. I'd probably been through worse. I didn't understand anything I was feeling, but I just didn't have the strength to go on like this. I wanted it to stop. I wanted all of it to end.  
  
Azyalae was my only company for that day, and although she was nice to have around, I still felt lonely as hell. I didn't know what I was missing, but something wasn't there. Something I needed was a long way away and I didn't even know what it was. I still felt as though I could barely open my eyes, but I needed to get up. I'd been lying awake all morning and I was sick of it. I didn't really believe I could stand on my own yet, but I had to try. I couldn't stay the way I was any more.  
  
"Azyalae," I felt my voice leave my throat, but I don't think she heard me. I don't think I heard me; I just felt that I'd made some kind of a sound. "Azyalae," I said again, trying to force my voice to be louder, or to actually some sound. I must have succeeded to some degree, because finally the doctor turned around.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" she asked me, concern evident in her eyes. Her face was very expressive.  
  
"I need to get up," I told her. My voice was still feeble; she had to lean close to hear me.  
  
"No," she shook her head. "You must rest."  
  
"I can't. I have to get up. It's uncomfortable."  
  
"Then we shall make it more comfortable, but you shall not get up and go anywhere. I will not allow it."  
  
"Azyalae," I said, looking into her eyes. I needed to get up; she needed to see that in my eyes. "Please."  
  
Azyalae looked at me deeply, as if to ask me to change my mind. She wanted me to do what she thought was best. I understood that, but I also knew what I needed to do, and I needed to get up. I could see her thinking very deeply, trying to find another way of saying no without using the word.  
  
"You will not honor my wishes, will you?" she stated, rather than asked. Her voice was still very muffled to my ears, but I heard well enough to know she was asking me to change my mind.  
  
"Sorry," I apologised in place of saying no.  
  
"If I cannot advise you otherwise then, it makes no difference," Azyalae said, almost disappointedly. "You cannot accept my opinion. I understand."  
  
"I accept it," I said honestly, "but I just - I need to get up and move around. I feel trapped, Azyalae. I've been trapped in that little room for weeks. I need to make the most of this time I have. I won't have much of it."  
  
Azyalae smiled. She has an amazingly bright smile. I knew she understood. "If your injuries are worsened by this," she said, not needing to finish.  
  
"Nothing will happen," I assured her.  
  
"You had better hope so," she said, not pulling away the smile on her face. I nodded. I was grateful she understood.  
  
***  
  
"I don't think I met her," Sam said. "She sounds nice."  
  
"She was," Jack confirmed. He didn't realise how uncomfortable Sam had begun to feel after the mention of the doctor.  
  
"You - you must have felt comfortable around her."  
  
"Not initially. She's a doctor. I've never been interested in doctors before. All they wanna do is jab things into you. I'm pretty sure they enjoy it. Some kind of sadistic pleasure." Jack half-smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he'd smiled. It felt good, but also awkward when he noticed Sam seemed to be very distant all of a sudden. "Carter?"  
  
"I think I'm just gonna go, Sir, if you don't mind?" Sam replied, licking her dry lips and swallowing hard. She wasn't sure what had made her feel so uncomfortable all of a sudden, but she knew she needed to leave. Jack was noticeably confused. Why did she want to leave all of a sudden? What had he said? That was the first close to normal conversation he'd had in weeks. What the hell had happened?  
  
"Sure," he sighed, almost reservedly.  
  
"Sorry," Sam said quickly as she left.  
  
Once outside the Infirmary and on her way to her quarters, Sam sighed deeply. Why did I do that? She thought bitterly. Why was I stupid enough to do that? That was one of the first times he's spoken and sounded like his old self again since coming back, and I just.I bolted, for no reason. I really can't believe I did that.  
  
@  
  
"Doc," Jack said as Janet passed by his bed.  
  
Fraiser was initially surprised that he called on her, but glad he was beginning to find his old self again. "What is it, Colonel?" she asked with a smile.  
  
"I need to get out of here."  
  
"I'm not sure what you mean, Sir. Out of the Infirmary or out of the SGC?"  
  
"The Infirmary," Jack clarified. "I need to get out of here. I'm sick of being in here. I want to walk around again, have a long, hot shower."  
  
Janet nodded, understanding perfectly. "Well, I suppose that's really up to you," she confirmed. "If you want to go, I don't see any reason why you can't. I'd like you to stay on the base, though."  
  
"That's all?" O'Neill asked incredulously. "No other orders?"  
  
Janet smiled. This was definitely the Colonel they all knew coming back. "No, Colonel," she replied. "That's about all. Don't push it, though. I want you to stay on base for a reason. Don't go running marathons on me, now. You need to look after yourself as well. If you don't, I'll have you back in here faster than you can say 'doctor's orders', ok?"  
  
Jack nodded. That had been much easier than he'd expected. "When can I go?"  
  
"You can go now, if you like, which I'm almost certain you do. Make sure you do not strain any of those injuries though, Colonel. I did quite a bit of work on you; I don't want it to have been for nothing."  
  
"Whatever you say, Doc."  
  
As soon as Jack was out of the Infirmary, he planned his first stop to be the showers. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to just stand under the steaming hot water of a shower and savour every second. This was first on his 'to do' list, without a doubt. The first thing Jack noticed, when he got to the locker room, was that it was incredibly empty. It seemed strange for that time of the day, but he didn't care. Less people to interrupt his shower. His limbs felt stiff and sore as he stepped into the first shower. His hands seemed a little weaker than usual, and so did everything else. He didn't feel healthy. It didn't feel good, but he would sort all that out eventually. All that mattered now was to make sure he had the best, hottest and longest shower possible. If he could stay there all day, he was pretty close to saying he would.  
  
Jack turned on the water so it came out hot, and not just a little bit hot, really hot. It was almost too hot, but he didn't care. The water, if necessary, could burn out the soreness and stiffness of his body. He needed something soothing, and if steaming hot water was all he could have, then that was good enough. The water hit Jack like hot needles on his back. It seemed to pierce his skin and make it bleed, but he didn't care. The scars and bruises left behind from the torture didn't hurt now, the water did - at least that was what he told himself. He didn't want any reminders of P4C 237 now. That was the past. Right now, this shower was the most important thing to him, as strange as it sounded. Jack turned to let the water pound on his chest, hit like a wall falling on him. Pain didn't mean anything. Pain didn't exist anymore. This water wasn't pain - it was a release and it felt good. Great even.  
  
Jack dropped his head back and turned again, letting the water drown his hair and face, almost hurting the bruises remaining around his neck and face. He slipped his hands over his face, then back over his hair. The water felt so good on him. His body had been violated on P4C 237, violated in a way he hated to remember. A way no one should have to remember. If nothing else, he would make sure it never happened again.  
  
The hot water slowly began to smooth out the kinks in Jack's body. He felt as though he stood there for hours, just letting the heat of the water penetrate his skin and sink into his bones. With both the time alone, and the personal space he began to reclaim as a part of himself, Jack felt rejuvenated. The space in the shower cubical was relatively small, but the quiet solitude, the steam given off by the heat of the water, the nakedness, it all contributed. It all made him feel better.  
  
Time seemed to slowly drip by with the water as it fell onto Jack's body. He barely felt as though he'd been there a few minutes when nearly a whole half hour had passed. It didn't feel that long to O'Neill. The water just kept on soaking him, making his bare skin slowly change to a shade of scarlet. He closed his eyes and almost melted into the water. He felt a part of it, as though it had in fact penetrated his skin and gone through his whole body. Why wasn't everything in life allowed to be savoured like this? Uninterrupted and relaxed. There was no reason to feel anything but relaxed. Jack finally found the terry cloth and soap, lathered the cloth up and leisurely dragged it around his body. In places, bruises were roused, a reminder of what was left behind, but that was the good part. It was left behind. No one ever had to go back there again.  
  
No one ever had to go back there again. Jack sighed at the thought. The best part about that small truth was the first part. No one. No one else would have to see what he saw. Go through what he went through. It didn't help him, but it was good to know. It was good to know that no one else would suffer like he did.  
  
@  
  
Sam reconsidered apologising to her CO nearly a half-hour after getting to her quarters. Why shouldn't she apologise? She was stupid and it wasn't as though he was going to yell at her for apologising.  
  
When she reached the Infirmary, Sam noticed the bed her CO had once been in, was no longer occupied. "Oh, Sam," Janet said as she saw her friend standing by the Infirmary door, "I was going to try to find you in a minute. Sam?"  
  
Carter heard her name for a second time and finally snapped out of her trance. "What?" she asked, bewildered.  
  
"Are you ok?" Fraiser queried her friend. She seemed very jumpy and distant lately.  
  
"Where's Colonel O'Neill?" Sam ignored the question.  
  
"I released him about a half an hour ago."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he requested it, and I saw no reason to say no. Physically he has a little more healing to do, but otherwise, he's ok to leave. He's base- bound, but I don't see anything going wrong while he's here."  
  
"But - but Kayla? I thought - I'm confused," Sam jumbled the sentence, finally admitting the truth. She had no idea what was going on.  
  
"Kayla will continue her work, she's not going yet," Janet confirmed. "Don't worry, Sam. Kayla won't go anywhere until she's satisfied Colonel O'Neill is back to normal. Now, though, there's not really any reason to keep him confined to an Infirmary bed when he's quite capable of walking around on his own."  
  
There was a brief silence in which Sam took in all this new information. "Where is he?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I'm not really sure," Fraiser answered honestly. "He mentioned something about the showers, so he might be there, but - "  
  
"Thanks Janet," Sam said, walking out of the Infirmary, away from her friend.  
  
"No problem," Janet mumbled to herself as she watched Sam leave. "If you find him, tell him Kayla's looking for him!"  
  
Sam heard Janet's words, quickly making her way to the locker room. Then she realised something. The locker room, she thought, it's women's locker room now. I hope he knows that.what if he doesn't know? The times have been changed since he got back. He probably doesn't know. Carter quickened her pace as she rounded the next corner, just one more away from the locker room.  
  
Once in the locker room, Sam suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was empty, no one else in sight, but what if he was here? She could hear a shower running, but assumed it was one of the women.  
  
"Hey," she called over the noise of the running water, "who's in there?"  
  
No one answered. Maybe they hadn't heard her, the water was loud. There was steam everywhere. Sam hoped nothing had happened to the occupant of the shower cubical. That water must be damned hot to create so much steam. "Anyone in there?" Sam tried again, a little louder. "C'mon," she whispered, "someone answer."  
  
Sam began to tap her foot on the ground. She couldn't go in there. What if it was her CO? No, there was no way she was going around to see. She couldn't deny there was a part of her that thought it might be interesting - and perhaps that wasn't even the right word - but there was no way she could do it. No way. She swallowed hard and shook her head, beginning to get impatient. "Is there anyone in here?" she almost shouted. "If there's anyone in here, could they please answer me?"  
  
Jack was shaken out of his silent reverie when he first heard the voice - just barely over the noise of the shower. At first he'd thought, perhaps he was imagining things, as one does tend to think when hearing a faint voice. There was no voice; he was just caught up in his thoughts. He'd imagined the voice. He waited for a moment, hoping not to hear any more voices, but then he heard it again.  
  
It sounded as though it was the same voice, but he couldn't be sure. As though to make matters worse, he also thought it was a female voice, which wasn't good. Again, he couldn't be sure, but it sounded as though it was. "If there's anyone in here, could they please answer me?" The voice asked. Jack shook his head.  
  
"Damn," he murmured. He was very much enjoying his long and uninterrupted shower. It seemed the uninterrupted part was about to end.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill? Are you in here?" Sam asked finally, giving in to her defences. She had thought she hadn't the nerve to ask straight out if he was, but changed her mind. "Colonel," Sam summed up a little more nerve, "it's Major Carter, Sir. If you're in here, umm, can you just let me know somehow?"  
  
Carter? It was Carter? Jack was initially confused, before being surprised. What was she doing? Why was she looking for him? Especially, why was she looking for him in the locker room? How in the Hell had she known he was here? Jack didn't know whether to say something, or pretend he hadn't heard her, hoping she'd just give up. Somehow, he thought, I don't think she'll give up.  
  
"Carter?" Jack called, rather hesitantly; just to be sure it was her.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Sam replied. It was hard having to yell over the roar of the shower's water. She wanted to ask if he would mind turning the water off - coming out to talk to her - but she was uncomfortable with that request. She didn't quite know why, but something about it made it sound inappropriate, or something. It didn't sound very good to her, anyway. "Can I - uhh - can I talk to you, Sir?" Sam rearranged her words, so the request remained the same, but sounded less obtrusive. Still, she felt strange asking. She shook her head. "I can't believe I just asked that," she muttered to herself, in disbelief.  
  
Jack nodded his head; sure, he'd talk to her. Only problem being that he was in the shower, and his towel was where he left it, on the bench. He hadn't expected his shower to be interrupted, least of all by his second in command. There were a million ways to go about the situation, all the logical ways, but neither Sam nor Jack seemed able to find one. So many different approaches, but why did it all seem so hard?  
  
"I'm - well I'm kinda - can it wait, Carter?" Jack finally managed to ask, while looking around to see if someone had left a towel within his reach. Why does this seem so much harder than it is? He thought.  
  
"Well, it's kind of important, Sir, and it's rather difficult having to yell," Carter replied, hoping the yelling between them could soon cease. She was becoming self-conscious about it, wondering if anyone could hear them. Considering it was women's locker room now, she really had no reason to feel uncomfortable about anything, but also considering she was trying to have a conversation with her CO, while he was in the shower during women's locker room, she did feel rather awkward.  
  
Jack shook his head in slight frustration. This was way too hard. This afternoon was supposed to be relaxing, uninterrupted, something - some time - Jack had to himself. When he could think of whatever he wanted, or not think about whatever he wanted. This interruption spoiled the solitude and made him just as quiet and withdrawn as he'd been before. He felt all the old memories coming back to him. All the old feelings of insecurity he'd been trying to overcome. The torturous pain, etching itself back into his mind could come close to bringing him to his knees, but he wouldn't allow that to happen. The only way to deal with this was his way. The only way he knew.  
  
Sam was clearly not going to leave until he came out to talk to her, and as much as he didn't feel like giving in to her, he did know she wouldn't give up in a hurry. That would only make the situation worse, and that wasn't necessary. A worse situation wasn't something O'Neill was prepared to create. 


	9. Once Bitten

Chapter 7 - Once Bitten  
  
Jack managed to claw around the shower cubical long enough to find that his towel was in fact where he'd left it and that had been over the top of the tap handles. Wrapping it around his waist without worrying about his dripping hair, Jack looked down at his bare chest. It wasn't really a pretty sight. Scars were splattered around like a child's painting, only not as colourful. His back was in just as bad a state, if not worse. As that small fact entered his mind, he began to feel more uncomfortable than before. There was nothing more he could do about it. Carter would probably be horrified - at least in the Infirmary bandages hid away the ugly sight. Don't think about it, Jack told himself, just don't think about it.  
  
Sam watched her CO approach her, reprimanding herself for allowing her eyes to wander. Stop it! Sam nearly said aloud, that's pathetic, Sam. CO, say that to yourself, huh? Commanding Officer! Military! Regulations, Jesus. Get a grip.  
  
"I'm sorry fo - " Sam held in the choking sound she almost made, as her Colonel got close enough for her to see the state of his body. It wasn't as though she hadn't known it would look.but she just never expected what she was looking at. "I'm sorry, Colonel, it's just.Janet told me that Kayla was looking for you and that you might be here. I - well I probably shouldn't have done this, but, it's women's locker room now. I didn't think you would know that since the times were changed just before you got back from.well they were changed not long ago."  
  
Jack nodded, noticing that Carter's eyes continued to wander, then snap back to his face. He watched her looking away from him, uncomfortably directing her eyes to the left, then up, then to the floor. She was uneasy; Jack could feel it. "Well, I better get out of here then," he said, also looking away from the woman in front of him.  
  
Tension seemed to grow and they both began to feel further discomfort. "If you don't mind - "  
  
"No, I'll just go, Sir, and let Kayla know I found you," Sam interrupted, knowing that she was standing around without a reason.  
  
"Yeah, ok," Jack agreed.  
  
Sam nodded. "Ok," she repeated, beginning to leave when she stopped and turned back.  
  
"Colonel," she said, waiting for him to look up at her, "I'm sorry."  
  
.TO BE CONTINUED. 


End file.
